Miles To Go
by Betula
Summary: Sometimes we need help to realize things that should be obvious. One-shot.


As I wander slowly and reluctantly to school, I could feel someone watching me.

I've read that phrase in books, but I never believed that I could experience the feeling myself.  I've always assumed that it was a bit of artistic license, that a person could be aware of being watched without actually seeing anyone.  There is no one around, and I _know there is someone there, and they haven't taken their eyes off me since I left my house this morning._

I hope whoever it is isn't planning to mug me.  They say that if you get mugged, you should just give them your money and not argue.  All I have in my wallet is some loose change, and I doubt that would satisfy a desperate criminal.  He'd probably be pissed and knife me for being broke.

There isn't anyone around to help me either.  I'm late for school, and everyone has gone to work already.  The only sounds are from the wind, which lightly rustles the leaves of the trees, and sends a lone sheet of newspaper skittering down the street.  The leaves are turning a sickly brown in preparation for winter, and the wind knocks a few of them loose from their now precarious grip and they flutter to the ground.  The sun is shining, but the air is cold.  

I can still feel the eyes, and I'm getting seriously freaked.

I turn the corner, and relax slightly as I see the first sign of human life in what seems like ages.  Old Mrs. Watanabe is in her garden, trimming some of her plants.  Both of her arthritic hands grasp the pruning shears and snip a dead, brown blossom.  I call out a greeting to her, neither expecting nor receiving an answer.  Mrs. Watanabe is stone deaf, and won't answer anyone unless she actually sees them, and she obviously hasn't seen me.  She severs another dead flower from the bush as I pass.

I feel stupid for being so unnerved earlier.  My mother tells me I have too much imagination, giving me a tendency to work myself up into a frenzy over nothing.  My older brother tells me I'm a wimp.

Most of the other kids at school think I'm a wimp too.  Not that I'm a bully magnet or anything.  Beyond one or two close friends, I just don't exist to most of the school's population.  I'm in the middle of the class as far as grades are concerned, I'm no great sportsman or student council member or class clown or anything.  I'm merely another anonymous student, one of those that the teachers always forget the names of and that my classmates are surprised about when they realize I've been sitting in the desk behind them all year.  This is great for avoiding bullies and homework moochers, but not so great when trying to get a date.  Whenever I try to ask any of the girls in my class out, I am usually met with blank or confused stares.  One of them even went so far as to ask, "Who are you again?"  If it had been sarcastic I could have written her off as a spiteful bitch without the common courtesy to turn me down politely, but instead it had been a genuine question.  The fact that I wasn't memorable enough to be rude to hurt quite a bit.

There is one girl I've been working up the courage to ask out though, and this time, I think there's a real chance she might say yes.  We worked together on a project a few weeks ago, and she was really nice in a sweet, shy way.  She smiles at me in the hallways, speaks to me after classes, and she even ate lunch with me yesterday.  I'm going to ask her today.

But I'm late for school, and I can't seem to work up the energy to walk any faster.

The wind has died down, the air is completely still and silent.  I can feel the eyes on me again.  I stop walking.

"ROWF, ROWF, GROWF, GROWRRRRRRR," The sudden angry barking from a very large dog makes me leap sideways.  It slams its body against the gate to its yard, which rattles alarmingly.  The dog barks continuously in a way that I've never seen it do before.  The dog is a huge, usually placid animal that his owner bought to look intimidating enough to scare off would-be burglars, but to be gentle around the children.  He usually comes to the gate waving his bushy tail, anxious for a pat, when I walk past.  I take an uncertain step towards him. And the barking intensifies.  He rears up and plants his massive forepaws on the top of the gate, and his snarling jaws reveal every one of his gleaming white teeth.

I run, the sound of his barks following me until I am out of sight.

I eventually stop, sliding my bag off my back and dumping it on the ground, then bending over with my hands braced above my knees, trying to catch my breath.  

"Are you all right?"  The question is soft and concerned, and the sound of it freezes my blood. 

I stand up abruptly with a gasp.  Standing before me is another person, when I'm sure there was no one there a second ago.  I second glance makes me relax again.

"Yeah, except you just about gave me my second heart attack in as many minutes, appearing out of nowhere like that."

"Sorry."

While my heart rate slows to normal, I study the newcomer.  I've never seen him before.  He looks about the same age as me.  I'm by no means the toughest guy around, but this guy certainly doesn't seem as if he could overpower me.  He's short, and frail-looking, with pale skin, as if he was recovering from an illness.  He looks almost too pretty to be a boy, with his wispy light brown hair, delicate features and huge, limpid green eyes.  He doesn't seem to care about how rude I'm being, staring at him like this.

"Uh – I have to get going.  I'm late for school."  I'm suddenly uncomfortable.

 "It's alright.  They aren't expecting you.  You don't need to go anymore."  

Well, that's weird.  The last time I checked, I hadn't dropped out.  I'm starting to get a little freaked again.

"What do you mean?" I ask carefully.

"It's taken you a long time to walk to school today, hasn't it?"

That made me pause.  He's right.  I feel as if I've been walking forever.

He must have seen my reply on my face.  "What do you remember doing yesterday?"

Another odd question.  I answer anyway.  "I remember walking to school, and then…"  I stop.  I can't seem to remember anything I did yesterday except walking to school.  In fact, I don't even remember _getting_ to school.

Again, he seems to infer my answer.

"You can't do anything other than walk to school, ever again, if you stay here."

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

"If you stay here, you'll keep walking to school, over and over, until you eventually fade away to nothing."

I'm talking to a psychopath.  If I keep saying that, maybe I'll believe it.

"If that happens we won't be able to help you."

I find my voice.  "We?" That isn't the question I wanted to ask.

"My partner and I."  The boy replies, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.  I look up and see another man standing far enough away to avoid interfering in the boy's confrontation with me, but close enough to hear most of what we were saying.  The man looks in his mid twenties, tall and dark-haired, with eyes a stunning shade of _violet_.  He is wearing a long, black trench coat, giving him a rather sinister look – an image that lasts right up until he grins and gives me a merry wave.

"What do you mean, 'If I stay here'?"  That's the question I wanted.

"You don't belong here anymore."

"Here?"

"In the world of the living."

I feel as if I have been suddenly plunged into cold water.  I am gaping for air that doesn't come.

"Three days ago, as you were walking to school, a speeding car swerved off the road and hit you before it crashed.  You were killed instantly."  His eyes are green, like the water of a lake, and I'm drowning in the sorrow I see in them.  "Look there."  He waves a hand at the road, where little diamonds of glass were scattered.  "And there."  He points to the lamp post  behind me, and I see a wreath hanging there.  The note attached to it read "In loving memory.  He shall be missed."  And written there was my name.  My name.

"I'm sorry."

I have drowned.

"I'm dead?  But – but I can't be!  Not yet.  I have things I need to do.  I have to finish school.  I have to ask her out.  I was going to ask her out today.  I think she'll say yes.  I have to – I have to – I.."

I'm crying.  I didn't notice when I started, and now I can't stop.  

"It's not fair!" I scream.  "I never did anything!  I never got to do anything!  It's too early.  I never did any of the things I wanted to do."  I collapse to my knees, sobbing, and he kneels slowly beside him.  I can feel him sending me his sympathy, his understanding.  I know, he seems to say, I know you are too young.  I was too young too, and I never did the thing I wanted either.

Eventually, my tears ease, and I am left feeling drained and weary.  "So, what now?"

"Come with us.  We'll take you to where you belong now."  His tone is gentle.

I look into his remarkable eyes again.  "Who – _what_ are you?"  I think I know the answer, but I want to be sure.

He smiles, slightly, for the first time, and it warms me like the sun emerging from the clouds.  "Shinigami."

I breathe in, then out, a final time.  I smile back at him, and take his hand.

The End


End file.
